Politics and The Woman
by ADLOCKandMYTHEA
Summary: Sherlock goes to a crime scene, where lies a dead MI6 who's suicide was staged to look like a murder. But Sherlock gets put into the past, back to when he was a drug addict, and struggling with his addiction, and coping without a case...all of this when he hears one name, of one woman, The Woman. Irene Adler. She's saved him before. But can he save her?
1. The Beginning of The Past

A/N This is an AU to The Great Game.

So I feel like I should give one last chance at writing before I give up completely because one of my friends says they like it and I just want to try. And what with the new season of Sherlock starting…I've found some adrenaline for writing again. So here we go. This is it. My last chance at every writing something decent (ha ha ha we can all hope and joke huh?)

* * *

**Chapter One: The Beginning of The Past**

John stepped into Baker Street, and made his way upstairs, ducking as he continued on to the living room when he heard the sound of gunshots. He stepped into the living room and found his friend, and flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, sitting lazily in his armchair, with a gun hanging from his hand, after just shooting the wall.

"Sherlock what the hell are you doing?" he asked, a little annoyed. Sherlock was using John's revolver that he'd had in the army.

"Bored." Sherlock replied, languidly.

"What?" John asked, not even surprised.

Sherlock Holmes jumped up. "Bored!" he replied, his face animated for emphasis. He turned to the wall and began to shoot again. "Bored." Fire. "Bored." Fire. "Bored!" At that moment, John realised Sherlock had used a can of yellow spray paint to draw a smiley face on the wall. Mrs Hudson,their landlady, would surely not enjoy that new piece of decoration. John decided to confiscate the gun off of Sherlock and lock it away in its box.

Sherlock flopped himself onto the sofa, in the sulking manner of a small boy. "Don't know what's gotten into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them."

"So you took it out on the wall?" John asked, as he made his way to his armchair, removing his jacket.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock replied.

"I thought that you had that Russian case." John said, to Sherlock as he put his jacket on the back of the armchair.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." was Sherlock's reply, as he stared at the ceiling.

"Shame." The Army Doctor replied, sarcastically. John proceeded into the kitchen. "Anything in? I'm starving."

He opened the door to the fridge, and shut it immediately. Inside was a man's decapitated head.

"There's a head." he said to himself quietly before turning to shout to Sherlock. "Severed head!"

"Just tea for me thanks." Sherlock replied, languidly.

"No there's a head in the fridge." John replied, as he walked into the living room.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, in an obvious tone.

"A bloody head!" John exclaimed.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?!" Sherlock asked, before looking to John. "You don't mind do you?"

John just let out a small noise of defeat, and titled his hands.

"Got it from Saint Barts Mourge." he replied. "I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

"Eh, yes." John replied, as he sat down in Sherlock's chair.

"A Study in Pink. Nice." Sherlock replied.

"Well pink lady, pink case, pink phone, there was a lost of pink." he replied. There was a brief pause before John went on, as Sherlock began to read a magazine. "Did you like it?"

"Emm….no." Sherlock replied, pompously.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" Sherlock asked, resting the magazine on his lap so he could look John in the eye. "Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things."

"Hold on I didn't mean that in a -" began John.

"Oh you meant spectacularly ignorant in a nice way?!" Sherlock interrupted him. "Look it doesn't matter to me who's prime minister or who's sleeping with who…"

"Or that the earth goes round the sun." John comments.

"Oh not that again, it's not important!" Sherlock replied.

"Not important?" John turned to him, and rest his elbow on the armchair. "It's primary school, how could you not know?"

Sherlock pressed his hands against his forehead. "Well if I ever did, I deleted it." he replied.

"Deleted it?" John asked.

Sherlock sat up with a sigh, dumping his magazine on the coffee table. "Listen." He pointed to his head. "This is my hard-drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that a useful. _Really _useful." He sighed. "Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. That make is hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

"But it's the solar system!" John cried.

Sherlock groaned and put his head in his hands. "Oh what does that matter?!" Sherlock exclaimed. "So what if went around the moon or around the garden like a teddy bear?! It wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work! And without that, my brain rots. Put that on your blog. Or better still…stop inflicting your opinions on the rest of the world."

He lay back down, facing the back of the sofa. That was the last straw for John that night, he got up, grabbing his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, John as thought nothing had happened. John didn't reply, he just left. To go to his girlfriend's.

"Have you two had a domestic?" Mrs Hudson the landlady asked as she stepped into the living room and then the kitchen with some shopping.

Sherlock got up and made his way to the window. "Look at that Mrs Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful?"

"Oh I'm sure something will turn up Sherlock, a nice murder. That'll cheer you up." she told him, as she began making her way out.

"Can't come to soon." he responded.

"Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall?!" Mrs Hudson asked, causing Sherlock to smirk and turn to the smiley face. "I'm putting this on your rent young man!"

* * *

The next day, Sherlock received a call to go to a flat, where a man had been found murdered.

"He was MI6. We're trying to get as much information as we can get before they take over the case." Lestrade explained.

Sherlock examined a dead body on the floor. A bullet in his head, and several more holes in the wooden laminate flooring. Shell casings close by.

"Seems whoever killed him was looking for something." explained Lestrade. "Place is in a right mess."

"No. No. No." Sherlock replied as Anderson began dusting the gun down for finger prints. He examined a broken clock .

"There is no prints. That's definitely odd." Anderson said. Sherlock turned around to him for a moment before turning back to the broken clock.

"It was suicide." responded, Sherlock. "That body has been lying there for six hours. However, the gunshots were reported an hour ago. What does that tell us? Someone broke in and found him dead. They wanted the police to believe it was a murder. Why? Possibly to draw attention from the reasons why he killed himself. How do I know? He's already gone into rigor, I'm sure you wouldn't have failed to notice that little detail but let's say you did. His watch broke as he fell. The time and date are both on the watch, it was for earlier today. However this clock here, that I'm standing buy, fell and broke, three hours ago."

"Found an organiser." a woman on the forensic team said. "He had something on at nine. With an Irene Adler."

Sherlock walked over and grabbed her. "Say that again."

"He had something on at nine with a woman called Irene Adler."

"Sherlock what is it?" Lestrade asked. "Sherlock!"

"Nothing." he replied. "Excuse me. I've given you all that you need to know at the moment. I'll continue to investigate."

"Sherlock if you're hiding something…" Lestrade began.

"I'm not hiding anything." he replied before leaving.

* * *

He walked up to her house and took a breath as his finger hovered over the doorbell button. At that moment he took an instant flashback to the first time he'd ever rang it.

_He pressed the doorbell and sighed. It wasn't long before the door opened and he was staring on at a woman with long brown wavy hair, wearing a grey suit. He blinked. "I'm here to see Dr Adler. Where is he?" he asked. _

_She chuckled. "I'm Dr Adler and the last time I checked I was not a he. You must be Mr Holmes. Come in." _

_She led him inside and to the living room. She offered him a seat on the sofa, which he took rolling his eyes. _

_She sat down in her armchair and smiled. "Now, Mr Holmes. Why are you here to see me?" _

_"Because my brother and Lestrade will not let me on another case until I've stopped taking drugs and Mycroft is making me come here." _

_"You know what I've taken from that? You're here because you're on drugs and you want to fix it. That is a good start. The cases that you do are an incentive to carry on. But you must be finding it difficult. Your hands are shaking and you can't stop fidgeting. You're desperate for a fix aren't you?" _

_"You've just had a break up with your boyfriend. Both of your parents are deceased. You are a trust fund baby, and your main area of work is trauma therapy. You're favourite book is Pride and Prejudice and you've just recovered from pneumonia. Shall I gone? I could talk about your musical talents."_

_"Let's discuss that remarkable talent that you have. Do you always use it as a defensive coping mechanism?"_

_Sherlock spluttered. "A what?" _

_"A coping mechanism. You felt threatened by my statement. So you came back with a few of your own." _

_"Was I right?" _

_"Is that something you need to know. Will it aggravate you if you don't?" she replied. _

_"Well…sort of…yes." he replied. _

_"I see." she commented with a smile. "Let's talk about your brother. The one who recommended you. What's your relationship like with him?" _

_"What do you mean?" _

_"Well…are you close?" she replied. _

_"No." he replied. _

_"Yet he must care about you very, very much." Irene replied. "Why would he send you to me if he didn't?" _

_"To torture me." _

_He began to drum his fingers on his knees. "God, I need a case."_

_"So do you become more likely to crave drugs when you're without a case?" Irene asked him. _

_"Dr Adler, why is this important?" he asked. "Can't you just do some cheap voodoo hypnosis nonsense and send me off?" _

_She sat up straight and crossed her legs, clasping her hands on to her knees as she drew him a look of awe. "If you degrade such a thing as hypnosis treatment why do you want me to use it?" _

_"Do you always have to ask questions?" _

_"Does it threaten you Mr Holmes?" _

_"Dr Adler…" _

_"Irene is fine. We're going to be coming very friendly with one another. Because you have issues, Sherlock Holmes. But don't worry, you've come to the right person. Now then. Let's talk about your brother again. What makes you think that he doesn't care about you?" _

Sherlock took a deep breath as he pressed the doorbell. After ten minutes he began to press it again. "Come on. Come on. Come on!"

Eventually he got frustrated and he'd lock pick his way inside. He turned on the lights and noticed that the the place was all turned upside down.

"Irene!" he shouted as he ran upstairs. Everything was like a bad burglary crime scene.

He took a deep breath. Then his phone went off and he took it out of his pocket.

**- I would leave this case as soon as possible. MH**

Sherlock let out a sigh and blinked as he stared into Irene's study. Another flashback hit him.

_They had been looking at maps and Sherlock had pinned photographs of suspects to her wall in the study. _

_"I do hope you're going to tidy up after yourself." Irene commented. _

_"You can do it, if you like being tidy so much." he remarked and she scoffed. "Was that a nasty thing to say?" _

_"Not nasty, Sherlock. Just not very considerate." she replied, before ruffling his hair. "Where did this case come from?" _

_"A client." he replied. "Certainly not my brother or Scotland Yard. I'm still seeing you. Still needing…a smoke." _

_"Sherlock. You will get there." Irene told him. "Even if I have to wake up at 2am in the morning just to play chess over the phone with you, I'll help you." _

_"You go out of your way a lot. Why?" _

_"Your brother is paying me to." she replied, with a chuckle. "And because it's my job to help." _

_"With this case though? Why are you helping?" _

_"Because I'm interested in the mind. How it causes us to make our decisions, choices, acts. You've a beautiful mind, Sherlock Holmes. And I'm enjoying studying it completely." _

_"You think I have a beautiful mind?" _

_"Yes!" she told him. _

_"Well aren't you obvious." he replied. _

_"Sherlock Holmes, I complimented you. You're meant to say thank you." _

_"You're meant to be helping me." _

_"Mind your manners or I'll throw you out of my house." _

_"You can't, Mycroft's paying you to mind your manners with me." _

_She shook her head and play pushed him a little. _

_"Seriously. Why are you helping me?" he replied. _

_She sighed. "Do you know why I can't sustain a relationship with anyone? Why I struggle to keep friends or a boyfriend?" _

_"No but I'm sure you'll tell me." Sherlock remarked. _

_"I can't stop." she replied. "This is my career, psychology, studying people's minds, trying to help them and I can't stop it. I am constantly doing it. Everyone I meet…I know what it's like to not be able to stop, to have to keep on going. I have a steady line of clients and patients but you Sherlock, you…you don't have that steady line. So I know how you feel. Believe me, I do." _

_"You do have friends." Sherlock told her. "You have me." _

_Irene smiled, sadly. _

He swallowed and wandered downstairs again, removing his phone from his pocket and texting one word to his brother.

**- No. SH**


	2. Collateral Damage

**Chapter Two: Collateral Damage**

_Irene and Sherlock sat on a bench in the park, both eating chips as they remained silent. A few moments passed before Sherlock started laughing. Irene looked at him and drew him a questioning glance._

_"What amuses you so?" she asked, him with amazement on her face._

_"Just…you." he replied, before breaking into a mimicking, mocking tone of voice. "You're all…let's talk about this problem!"_

_"Oh I see where this is going." she muttered to herself._

_"But as soon as I ask you what happened on your date that has evidently failed. You don't want to talk about it." he said, laughing. "Although I know you threw your drink in his face. Did he insult you? Was he stupid? Boring?"_

_"He accused me of already being in a relationship. It's not funny." she replied, before sighing._

_"Why did he think that?"_

_"Well you called me while he was getting the drinks."_

_"So this is my fault?" Sherlock asked. "Besides, I needed your opinion. Was only asking if…"_

_"Asking what?" she replied. "Emm…Irene when is that date of yours ending. Because I am hungry and I cannot decide if I want fish and chips or Chinese. It was going well until you showed up."_

_"Was it?" Sherlock asked._

_"No. He had a eighty percent probability of becoming a deranged serial killer."_

_"Don't go for that. Unless you're aiming for the twenty percent. Although if he killed you, I would put him behind bars. Or worse."_

_"Or worse?" Irene asked, gazing at him._

_"I would kill him myself." Sherlock responded._

_"Why?"_

_"Because he killed you first." Sherlock replied. "No need though, I saved you from an awful date. Unless he starts stalking you. If he starts stalking you, to kill you, call me and I'll help you."_

_"You're adorable." Irene replied._

_"Irene, I've been months without taking drugs and I'm coping better. You've taught me the mind place technique, you've helped me find ways of organising my mind and controlling it. Don't you think it's time?"_

_"Sherlock. You're still calling me out of my bed at two o'clock in the morning to play chess with you. As long as you're relying on me, I…" The look on Sherlock's face made her stop. He looked down solemnly. "You're just bored aren't you? You're using that as an excuse to wake me up to play chess."_

_"Yes." he admitted. "There was that time we played that one with the building blocks."_

_Irene started laughing. "You're a bastard!" she told him. "I don't believe you sometimes. Could you not just say you were lonely. Talk about your issues but no, you have to hide behind this cover all the time."_

_"You're analysing me again."_

_"Not fair is it?" she replied before throwing one of her chips at him. "You really don't need me do you?" Her face fell. "I've enjoyed working with you, Sherlock. Studying you. Laughing at you. Beating you at a chess."_

_"Only a few times." Sherlock reminded her._

_"I will talk to you brother and Detective Inspector Lestrade in the morning. Goodbye, Sherlock."_

_"You're leaving me?" Sherlock asked._

_"You don't need me anymore." she replied._

_Sherlock's face fell that time, as he walked away._

He snapped out of his most recent flashback as he closed the door to Irene's house. Sherlock stepped down the steps and onto the road, before pulling a taxi. "Baker Street." he informed the cabbie.

* * *

When John returned to Baker Street in the morning, he stumbled on Sherlock slamming his fist on the table, next to his laptop. "Damn it, Irene!" he shouted.

"Who's Irene?" John asked him, confused. Sherlock looked up at him and took a deep breath.

_Sherlock glanced at the needle in his shaking hand. He wanted to plunge the metallic sharpness into the skin of his arm, but could he? What was more important? The drugs which stimulated his mind without cases? Or the cases, that the drugs were stopping him taking. The cases he couldn't live without._

_He picked up his phone, dropping the syringe on the floor so he could dial the correct number. Her number._

_"Hello." a sleepy voice asked him._

_"Irene…Will you play chess with me?"_

_"You have an appointment in the morning, Sherlock. We'll play chess then."_

_"I can't last until then. I almost took heroine. I will take it. Help me. Please."_

_"I'm white. Rook's pawn, to rook four." she replied._

_"Thank you." Sherlock replied._

"She's…" began Sherlock, struggling to answer, which caused John to blink. He could see an inner turmoil, written on the detective's face. Then Sherlock swallowed. "She is…a doctor. Psychologist, actually."

"Right. You have a case?" John asked, him.

"Yes."

"Well I'm here now. So let's help. What do we know?"

"It's alright, John. You can sit this one out." Sherlock informed him.

"Sherlock…" John began.

"Really. You can sit this one out." Sherlock told him. "I can find Irene Adler on my own."

Sherlock sat down at his laptop. "I will find her, John!"

John tilted his head and sat down in his chair, watching Sherlock who then stood up and began to pace. "Not one social page, I've tried emailing her, calling her, leaving messages on online forums, the website…Nothing. She's in danger. Something is wrong. And I'm…here…"

Sherlock took a deep breath and put his hand in a prayer shape. John watched him with a quizzical look on his face. This last time Sherlock was so concerned was when the he had rescued John and his girlfriend, Sarah, from a Chinese smuggling group. And the concern he showed John was not as visible as the worry written over Sherlock's face as he searched for Irene.

"Who is she?"

"I told you. She's a psychologist. Whenever there's a plane crash or a bomb…something that causes severe mental trauma…they call her because she's the best! She's published books! She….Oh!"

"What?" John asked.

"It's been staring at me in the face. She signed the official secrets act, and since then the government refer a lot of their soldiers, SAS men, MOD's, MI5, MI6…They all see her. They tell her things…Mycroft knew something about Irene and…the victim was seeing her. He'd tell her things and confide in her. So he commits suicide to keep something hidden? Of course and now whoever was looking for information from him is after Irene because they think he could have told her."

"It's the most likely theory." a voice said and John and Sherlock both looked at Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's elder brother.

Mycroft sat down in Sherlock's chair, while Sherlock stared out of the window in Baker Street.

"Where is she?" Sherlock asked.

"It's best you don't go looking for her, Sherlock. There's two groups of people after her. One wants to silence her and the other wants to make her talk."

Sherlock turned around and smiled. "You don't know where she is…do you?" Sherlock asked.

"No." Mycroft admitted. "The last thing you need it to go looking for her, Sherlock. She was your psychologist not your…"

"She was The Woman…who…understood everything that I did. She saw through people in ways that I couldn't. I forgot that other people could be great until I met her. And you're going after her because she did her job?"

John looked at Sherlock. "You saw a psychologist?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"To get over his addiction." Mycroft replied.

"I did get over my addiction." Sherlock replied, through gritted teeth.

"It's not us that are after her. It's the CIA." Mycroft replied, with a sigh. "She'll only be able to continue hiding for so long. They'll find her, dead or alive and if she's alive you have to prepare yourself for the possibility that she might not remain that way."

"Oh so you're going to kill her?"

"I'm not."

"Not you!" Sherlock responded. "Of course not! You're just letting it all happen. So what, Irene Adler is collateral damage?"

"Yes. Sherlock. She is." Mycroft replied. "Don't you become the same way."

When Mycroft had left Sherlock began to pace up and down. John stared at him. "She was your therapist?" John asked, Sherlock.

"Yes. Haven't we already discussed this?"

"You said that she helps people with trauma who've been in MI6 and 5 and…"

"Yes. I did say that."

"What if she called in a favour?" John replied. "I mean you got close to her imagine how everyone else…" Sherlock's face fell and John swallowed. "You just took a liking to her didn't you? You cared about her. You still care about her. Look at you."

"She always saved me. I owe her one." Sherlock replied.

* * *

"They've taped this place up." John said to Sherlock when night time came. "Surely anything useful will be gone."

Sherlock began walking upstairs and to Irene's study. "Irene always kept journals. She used them to write her books. She would hide them in this desk."

He opened up a secret compartment and began to remove journal books, putting them into a bag John brought a long. "There might be some names."

John lifted up a photograph on her desk of Irene and Sherlock outside a crime scene, that she had snapped. "That's her…and you?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock replied before looking around. "She just picked up and left. Left everything behind. Everything about her. What was she told?"

"If we knew what the agent was into…"

"No chance. Mycroft won't help us and we won't get any help from MI6." John interjected.

"No chance?" Sherlock asked. "We have Irene's diaries."

* * *

Sherlock let out a groan. " 'Andrew Noble, was suffering from a massive break up, identity crisis and PTSD. He was stressed about something he was holding on to. An email. With code. He was being threatened for this' . Then nothing. She wrote that on the same day, her client committed suicide."

"This is my favourite one." John said. " 'Sherlock Holmes, meeting one: Was defensive, obsessive and extremely intriguing. Has a inferiority complex, probably gained by the fact his brother is smarter than him. But a superiority complex around other people because he's smarter than everyone else'." John nodded and moved onto another day's entry. " 'He isn't selfish but highly self absorbed' ." John started laughing and he turned to Sherlock who continued reading the notes on Andrew Noble.

"How about this one? I like this one. It's so nice. 'After I had spent almost the whole night playing chess with Sherlock over the phone, he brought me my favourite pastries from the bakers to say thank you. Manners is something he's capable of, if he can be bothered. He just needs a push to be'."

"John…" Sherlock began.

"Oh look at this one. 'Sherlock's problem isn't an addiction to drugs. It's an addiction to stimulation of his beautiful, complex and paradoxical mind. Sherlock's obsession is mystery and puzzle solving and his favourite ones are a murder. Without this, Sherlock begins to feel uneasy and'…"

"John stop it! Those are private." Sherlock replied. "These will not help me find her!"

"That woman…she…understood you and you befriended her. Why else would you take her for fish and chips or Chinese whenever her dates went badly. Though maybe you felt bad because you ended a few of them."

"I cared about her! What do you want me to say John?!" Sherlock replied. "She was a friend! We were close! And as soon as I didn't need her as my psychologist anymore, she got up and walked away! Anything else you want to know?!"

John blinked and looked down, swallowing and closing over Irene's journal. "It's not nice when someone invades into your personal life. You can do it but you're clever, most people don't have the tools but these journals…they are tools and when I start digging into your life Sherlock…you don't like it. The irony."

Sherlock flopped onto the sofa and put his hands on his forehead. "I'm sorry. We'll find her, Sherlock don't worry."

"You have a date tonight with Sarah." Sherlock replied. "Go."

"Are you sure?" John replied.

"I need to be alone for a bit." he replied. He waited on John leaving before grabbing his coat and scarf. Time for him to leave too.


	3. Manipulation And Analysation

**Chapter Three: Manipulation And Analysation**

**April 4th 2011 (One Week Later****) **

Anthea stepped out of her flat building in the morning and saw Sherlock standing, his hands in his coat pockets. Anthea blinked and glanced at him before breaking into a small and amused smile.

"A car picks me up at the coffee shop across the road. If I don't get into it, it's a national security threat."

"Are you that important? They're ready to eliminate someone from the world who's of far more importance to agents than you. You're just a PA. Honestly, Anthea? They don't care."

"You'd be surprised, Mr Holmes at just what would happen if I showed even the slightest sign of being missing. I imagine you want something."

"Other than the CIA. Who is after Irene Adler?" Sherlock asked.

Anthea scoffed. "You just think I'll tell you. Why? Forget it." She began to walk off.

"Please." Sherlock said, stepping in front of her.

"Why don't you ask the other Mr Holmes? Or is he saying no too? Perhaps you should get the message."

A black car pulled up outside of the coffee shop. "Would you look at that, I've missed my chance to get coffee now, Mr Holmes."

She walked off to the car and Sherlock sighed.

* * *

Mycroft stepped into his office after a meeting to find Sherlock, sitting in his chair, with his feet up on the desk. Mycroft drew him a look.

"Who is after her?" Sherlock asked. "I'll start with them."

"Sherlock. We've been through this." Mycroft replied.

"I thought that you would say that. What you don't realise, Mycroft is Irene is very special. Special enough to make me pick up this phone and call our mother. I could invite her over, and she could stay with you. And you could take her to one of her musicals. Her and father. What do you say, Mycroft?"

"She _is _special." Mycroft stated. "Irene Adler may have saw some jumbled code. Godfrey Norton. He's not after the code specifically but one of our agents, is being placed on an aeroplane to New York from Heathrow. He's carrying a laptop with some data on it that we need transported. Rather a long story but he's after which flight. Our MI6 man, Andrew Noble, was originally meant to go but he became mentally unstable which was why he went to see Miss Adler."

"_Dr _Adler." Sherlock corrected.

"Yes of course." Mycroft replied. "The CIA aren't taking risks. They're doing everything they can to make sure no one finds out. But Norton is stopping at nothing. If he has her, Sherlock. She's in danger. If he doesn't, she's in danger."

Sherlock stood up and walked straight up to him, so his face was only a few inches from his brothers. "Why do you think that I am trying to find her?" he snapped. "You should have told me this before."

"And have you on the CIA list or Norton's. I don't think so." Mycroft replied, walking over to his desk. "Oh and Sherlock…Manipulating Anthea? Really?"

The door opened to Mycroft's office and Anthea uttered an "oh" before looking to Mycroft. "We have a report on Irene Adler."

"Where is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Downstairs in the morgue." Anthea looked at Mycroft.

* * *

"Body was found in an alleyway. Bashed in face. Be a wonder if you got a look in but she shows some characteristics of Dr Irene Adler." their medical examiner said to them.

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked.

"James Reid."

Sherlock blinked.

"That's her isn't it?" Mycroft asked Sherlock, who glanced at her before looking to Mycroft.

"That's her." Sherlock replied before walking out of the morgue, to look out of the window and onto the streets in London.

Mycroft held out a cigarette for him and he drew him a look. "I don't smoke. Not anymore." Sherlock responded.

"Just the one."

"Why?" Sherlock replied.

"Get it out of your system."

"Was it the CIA?" Sherlock asked. "Because you're not panicking. The only way this Norton would have killed her is if she had told him or convinced him that she didn't know anything. The worst thing is that Irene has a very good memory that borderlines eidetic. She wouldn't just forget whatever she saw. Made me wonder why she kept diaries."

Mycroft lit the cigarette that Sherlock took. The detective breathed in the nicotine before letting the rest of it come out in a vapour. "Smoking indoors isn't that one of those law things?"

"Down here there is only so much damage one can do." Mycroft responded. "Are you sure that is her?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"The face was barely recognisable with all that bruising." Mycroft responded.

Sherlock began to walk away. "It was her, trust me."

* * *

James Reid stepped into the car park to find Sherlock leaning against his car. He swallowed. "That's not Irene. Your wife and son and were killed by Carbon Monoxide poisoning. You blamed yourself for not fitting one of those detectors in and you became suicidal. Irene helped you. She brought you back to a better life. Now you've helped her. I want to help her, Dr Reid but I can't…because she's not around. Where is she?"

"How do I know you're not working with Mycroft Holmes?" Reid replied, drawing Sherlock a look.

"He's my brother and secondly, Irene is very special to me. She was there for me when I didn't know I needed someone. She doesn't know it now but she needs me. I can help her but I can't until you tell me where she is."

James slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. "She got in touch, asked for a favour. Said she would repay me for it if she ever got out of this thing alive. I told her not to worry because she'd helped me before."

"Go on." Sherlock replied.

"I found a body similar looking to hers. I didn't even need to apply injury detail. It was all done. Police found the man who done it. I confiscated it, said she worked for MOD and for reasons that we couldn't discuss, I need her body."

"Go on."

"That's all I did for her."

"And how did she get in contact with you?" Sherlock asked.

"Pay phone I suspect." he replied. Sherlock sighed. "It's all I know."

"Clearly." Sherlock responded. "Well thanks anyway."

* * *

Irene struggled her way into the abandoned building, which had once been many flats. She took deep breaths before sitting down on the steps of the staircase, and letting out a sigh, as she clutched onto her her side. She tripped when she was running and fell onto it. If her lecturers had told her, that her job would lead to this, she would have told them they were wrong. But now there was no way they could have been if they had said what they said.

She heard the sound of the door opening and she looked to see the silhouette of someone enter the building. She took a deep breath when she realised it was just a homeless woman. She smiled and then rested her head against the wall, before closing her eyes. She was exhausted.

When she opened her eyes again she being shaken awake. She jumped, startled and then felt arms wrap themselves around her. "You're okay now. You're okay. Someone from my homeless network recognised you. I had a reward out."

"Sherlock?" she uttered.

"I'm cross with you, Irene." he told her.

"Why would you be cross with me? Is it because…"

"We're not starting this." he said, pulling away from the hug. "Move."

* * *

"So what were you shown?" Sherlock asked, Irene. He was sitting in his chair in Baker Street, while Irene sat on John's armchair, in Sherlock's dressing gown. She'd just been for a shower to clean herself up.

"You think I'd just tell you?" she replied. "And have them come after you? You only just risked everything bringing me. Whoever is after me could be after you too now."

"Oh I'll take my pick. I love being spoiled for choice. CIA. Godfrey Norton." he responded. Irene drew him a look. "You should have come straight to me, the moment you started getting threatened."

"People burst into my house, Sherlock. There was no time to think about you. I was scared. I was running. What did you want me to do?"

"Call me. My number is on my website, like it's always been."

"Oh and there wasn't a million cameras around London, that you were brother was sitting behind, waiting for me to slip up on something like that…like going into an internet cafe? Oh and here's the one, Sherlock that we're forgetting…I didn't want you getting hurt either. I spent a year, trying to help you and you're doing great. There was times I couldn't sleep at night, waiting on you to call me because I was scared you were going to OD. You were a client. I shouldn't have been but no…You had to make friends with me."

"Well I guess it was because we both struggled in that department."

"You're doing an excellent job now." Irene looked over to John for the first time that night, and he gave her a small wave. "Tell me Dr Watson does Sherlock still call himself a sociopath."

"Well umm…" began John.

"I'm a high functioning sociopath." Sherlock said. "Maybe not like the ones you've seen but I am."

"Do you still use that line so that people will look past that harsh, demanding and blunt exterior you have going on?" she replied. "You're not a sociopath Sherlock. I've seen the highest of high functioning sociopaths put in jail. You're not one of them. The very fact you're so angry at me for not calling you is one of the reasons why I know you're not."

"He's also upset that you stopped being his friend." John inputted.

Irene looked at Sherlock, in shock.

"I thought you didn't need me anymore so you wouldn't want me." Irene told him. "My usefulness to you would have ran out…"

"As a psychologist maybe but…not as…you know…a friend." Sherlock responded, feeling awkward.

"Oh." Irene responded. "Well umm…I was wrong then."

"Evidently."

"I'm sorry."

There was a brief moment of silence before Sherlock spoke again. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you." she replied.

They looked at one another, and sighed. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been worried about someone you care about."

"What makes you think I care about you?" Sherlock responded.

"I don't know. The very fact, you're cross with me for not calling you for help. That's not being pedantic. Being pedantic would mean manic behaviour, you're just cross. So I don't think you are okay, not completely anyway."

"I had a cigarette when I walked out of the morgue. Mycroft offered it to me. I took it so he thought I was depressed. Was low tar."

"OK. Do you feel like this is a set back?"

"Do we have to do this!?" Sherlock asked her. "Can't we just…not?"

"I don't quite understand." she replied.

"You were always the same." Sherlock pointed out. "How does this make you feel Sherlock? You know how you asking me that makes me feel?"

"You should tell me. Get it out of your system. It helps." she replied.

He went to answer but stood up letting out a groan. John looked on amused from his seat on the sofa.

Sherlock leaned over the back of Irene's chair. "Irene, tell me what you saw. The code. Don't tell me you can't remember because I know you can." He tapped her head. "It's in here."

"How's your mind palace coming along?"

"You know about the mind palace?" John asked her. She turned to him and nodded. "Doesn't he drive you crazy with it?"

"No. I taught him it because I felt he needed to learn how to organise out his mind. It was a little chaotic and sometimes it didn't help him."

"You taught him it…" John broke into a grin. "Wow."

"Irene. Please!" Sherlock responded.

"I will not tell you anything and I'll get up and leave and turn myself into Mycroft before I would let you be chased."

"Fine then. I was going to get you some pastries from Mrs Hudson kitchen but, since you're not civilised. I won't be."

"Oh there it is, the regressing into the childish playground behaviour. You've taken my bouncy ball, I'll take your barbie doll."

Sherlock sat down and began to drum his hands on the arms of his chair. "To think I spent an entire week looking for you."

"There's a reason the Chinese proverb: may you find what you are looking: for is considered a warning to some."

"I don't regret it." Sherlock replied.

"And there is the mixed signals which means you're worried about me but you don't really want me to know you're worried about me."

Sherlock sighed. "You never let go do you?"

"I'm sorry." she apologised. "I can't help. It's been ages since I've done my job and you know that I love analysing your every action and sentence spoken."

"Yes I do know, Irene."

"But then again you understand because you can't cope five minutes without a case. It's like taking alcohol from an alcoholic. You get the DTs."

"Now this is hypocrisy." Sherlock stated.

"No it isn't. You see, Sherlock. I can admit that I have a problem. You can't. You need to accept yourself for who you are. Not necessarily changing but try to be a little more accommodating."

"I don't know why you put with me for a year if I wasn't."

"Because you were great company." Irene replied and Sherlock looked her right in the eye. John watched Sherlock's face soften and a realisation appeared on his face. There was a long moment of silence before John cleared his throat and spoke.

"Hamish." John uttered and Irene and Sherlock looked at him. "John Hamish Watson. If you're looking for baby names."

"Tea?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.

"Please." Irene replied.

He stood up and moved into the kitchen to turn on the kettle. John was gobsmacked Sherlock never offered to make tea before.


	4. Is This Farewell

**Chapter Four: Is this Farewell?**

Irene tried to sleep but that blissful world of human nature was something she was not going to be travelling to that night. Sherlock told her to take his bed and he would sleep on the sofa. She knew he wasn't sleeping downstairs. She could imagine him, contemplating everything. A sigh escaped her and she closed her eyes. She was safe, she knew that. But she was scared too. The door opened and she jumped, but relaxed when she saw Sherlock.

"I am worried about you. I am very worried about Irene Adler. I care about you a lot. You are...you are..."

She stared at him and turned the lamp on next to the bed.

"Irene Adler, you are a dead man walking. Woman. Either way you're walking and you're about to die. Obviously not walking now. And the truth is that I can save you; I can save you Irene Adler. And at this moment in time, there is nothing that I want more."

She swallowed and tears fell from her eyes.

"Sherlock..."

"Irene. You have said my life so many times. So just this once, will you let me save you. Tell me about the laptop and the aeroplane and..."

"It wasn't a laptop. Well it is but what's happening is that Mycroft's sending a fake passport into America to get out an important spy, right under the nose of Godfrey Norton. He has information that could take Norton down. Norton knows he has a mole, he doesn't know who and he wants to find that passport so badly, so he can see the face of the secret trader."

"How does Norton know anything?" Sherlock as Irene got out of bed and wandered over to the window to close it over. She was cold.

"Should be a question for someone other than me, Sherlock. I understand politics as much as you do. I see nothing to be analysed in the brain of a politician. They are all very very stupid. Except your brother, perhaps. I had one politician as a client once. Lord Moran. Hated him. Something was off. Got bad vibes."

"So what flight is it on?"

"I don't know. Neither did Mr Noble. If only he could decode the serial number, he would have. But they didn't tell him, how to decode it. He got replaced. So Noble told me anyway."

"Noble was suffering PTSD and a break up?"

"Identity crisis as well. He broke up with his girlfriend in New York. You know my hometown is only a small journey on a plane or a boat. Was four when we moved to London."

"So he has time for a girlfriend in America."

"He has three months off with her and that was when things fell apart. Mycroft told me that he had taken Noble away from the case two months before. He was showing signs of being...unusually behaved. Then he came back from New York City and well he was even worse, so he came to me."

"So he was taken off of the case before he went to America?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. Sherlock?"

"He's had that code for months?"

"Yes."

"Something's off and it's starting me in the face." Sherlock stated. "Did he talk about his girlfriend much."

"No. I tired to get him to but he was very…what's the word…"

"Liar!" Sherlock shouted, loudly.

"You're accusing me of lying?" Irene replied.

"Not you. Him." Sherlock replied.

"Him?"

"He didn't have a girlfriend. When you see break ups, there is always something left. He didn't even bring a souvenir back from New York. All this is I missed because you were too busy being in danger."

"Sorry about that."

"Irene Adler. You were played!"

"Played?" she replied. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

"Norton's men came after you. Didn't they?" Sherlock replied.

"Yes. I told you…"

"What did they want? What did they want?"

"They wanted me to take a phone call from him but I was…I ran to the bathroom, locked it and climbed out of the window. Took a jump, fell and hurt my side. Been in pain ever since. I probably cracked a rib knowing my luck."

"Still doesn't make sense but…it's you. It's you. It's you!"

"What's going on?" a sleepy voice asked, walking into Sherlock's room. It was John. "Is everything alright?"

"Sherlock. We've tried this tonight. We're all tired. So let's just…let's just not do this anymore. Alright? We can all go back to bed, or the couch. I'll take the couch."

She walked out of the room and downstairs to the living room. She jumped when she saw someone's shadow reflecting on the wall.

* * *

"Well are you sure everything is okay?" John asked, Sherlock. "I mean, between you two. Is there anything I can do to help because sometimes women are difficult to understand."

"I understand Irene Adler quite perfectly." Sherlock commented. "I just don't get it…"

"Don't get what?" John asked.

"Andrew Nolan is a liar. There's a high probability he was Norton's mole and just when I thought I was getting to the bottom of things, I wasn't."

"Well call me if you need me. I think I'll go downstairs and get something to drink."

John turned around and made his way downstairs. "Sorry, Irene…" he began as he put the light on. "Irene? Irene!"

He looked around. "Sherlock!" John shouted. Sherlock came running down.

"What is it?"

"Irene's gone!"

Sherlock ran out of the living room and downstairs, to open the front door and look outside, just as a car sped off.

* * *

Irene stepped out of the car, freezing cold. She could feel the barrel of a the gun in her back, being held by her kidnapper as she walked into the office building. She was taken to the elevator and placed inside. "It'll go up automatically."

She folded her arms and took deep breaths. Norton or CIA? Norton or CIA? She kept on asking who she was going to see and it wasn't helping. As soon as the elevator stopped she felt sick.

The doors opened and the voice of the person who was obviously in charge, spoke to her. "Irene Adler. I can't tell you how honoured that I am."

She walked out and stared at her enemy. "Godfrey Norton."

"Yes. I know who you are." she replied, before looking out of the window. Why the hell did she not remain inconsiderate and stay in Sherlock's bed. She frowned. At least she wouldn't be freezing cold. "What I don't know that I know you want to know is the plane…"

"I know but I know someone who can tell you. Do you know how difficult it was to get Sherlock Holmes and you together again?"

"I beg your pardon." Irene replied.

"An advisor of mine that I consulted told me that I could get his help through you. I need that code solved and I need it down quickly. I keep being told that I'm running out of time. The thing was…you kept running away every time I got close to you and Sherlock Holmes found you before I. Rather inconvenient but there's not much that can be done about that now, is there?"

"So you need me to get to Sherlock Holmes? I'm a patsy. I play Sherlock and it all gets blamed on me. I don't mind being killed but Sherlock…I'm not bringing him into this. I'd rather die than hurt him."

"That's what makes this so easy, Miss Adler."

* * *

Irene stepped into Baker Street's living room the next morning. "Where the hell have you been?!" he snapped from his, chair.

"Sherlock." John uttered, who was sitting across from him.

"I called another friend from my…list of clients that I helped out. He got me this coat, and clothes. He was a friend of the Vatican."

"You couldn't wait for clothes?" Sherlock asked.

"No. And I love shopping." she replied. "Cameos. You know?"

Sherlock drew her a look, as he realised. There was a wire hanging from her coat. John noticed too. "So a cup of tea would be nice." she said, swallowing. "Please."

"I'll make it." said John. "I'll just go and ask Mrs Hudson if she has any milk. We're out."

He got up and left, leaving Sherlock and Irene alone. "So you're safe then?"

"Yes." she replied. "I care about you too, Sherlock. Which is why I want this over and done with as possible because it's causing you stress and…you want to see the code to the whole puzzle don't you?"

"Yes."

"I wrote it down on a piece of paper. I have to write things down on a piece of paper. I can't remember a blasted thing."

"Your memory is very bad." he replies.

She handed it over to him. "If you could just…do your thing, we can come out of this situation feeling better and we'll solve the case and we'll be able to go back to our relatively normal lives."

"Irene. I'm sorry but there was nothing to that code. It was a false plant that Mycroft gave Andrew Nolan. He discovered he was working for Moriarty. Code doesn't even make sense."

Irene heard the voice speak in her ear. "Find out where the agent is being placed. Seat row and everything. Or he will die. Remember the story I told you of Moriarty?"

"Why don't we go and have dinner? The agent is already in America. It's amazing what my brother doesn't tell me. You'd think he didn't trust me."

"It's breakfast, Sherlock."

"Not for those who didn't get much sleep." Sherlock replied. "Why don't you take your coat off?"

A tear feel down her cheek.

"I'm a little cold." she replied. "I'll keep it on."

"Why don't you come sit by the far?"

She shook her head. "No. I think I'm going to go outside. For a walk. You know…Now that the whole fiasco is over…"

She heard white noise in her ear suddenly and her heart sank. John walked into the living room. "There was a prat in a car around the corner, read to page the bomb she's wearing. Don't worry, dealt with him. Called Lestrade as well."

Sherlock stepped up to Irene and removed her coat, and the the bomb. "There's someone out to get you Sherlock. I kept on trying to save you but giving you clues. If he knew for one moment that I was lying to you, you would have been dead."

"Good job that I'm a good liar too isn't it?" Sherlock replied, wiping her tears away and kissing her cheek. "You're alright."

"Moriarty."

John and Sherlock exchanged glances. "Norton told me about a consulting criminal. Moriarty. I was played like you said. But I was played to get to you."

"It's alright. Everything is alright now."

"I am so sorry." she apologised as Sherlock hugged her.

* * *

One week later 

"You were manipulated into my path." Irene said to Sherlock, in the living room at Baker Street. "I was meant to go to you for help, but you found me first. At least Norton is gone now. I have been on the run for two weeks and now I am ready to go home...This Moriarty…I fear that he may be very dangerous."

"You know me. I love a bit of danger."

"No. You love the excitement and adrenaline that comes with it. You hate the danger."

"Irene Adler. Be careful." Sherlock replied.

"I have something that I rather wished I had said to you before."

John started listening at that moment from a place in the stairs.

"What's that?"

"I just wanted to say. Hello. Hello, Sherlock Holmes. It was so very nice to meet you...I should have said that to you a long time ago. And I am saying it no because I don't want to say goodbye."

"We will see each other again. When you have a bad date."

"We could have fish and chips."

"Or Chinese."

"Pizza is good."

"Until then Irene Adler."

She turned around and walked out of the living room, before descending the stairs to the front door.

"Is that her away home?" asked John.

"Yes. I rather think she is."

Sherlock walked over to the window and began to play a piece on his violin.

"Are you alright about that?"

"She's safe now. Mycroft's watching her. Just to make sure." Sherlock replied. "She's safe."

"Alright then." John replied as Sherlock began to play the violin again. His tune was sad.

**_Story Complete_**

* * *

**_A/n Would like to give a big thank you to _**

**_Nina Vale :) Thanks for reading and reviewing ! _**

**_xxRedShadowxx_**

**_and to the two lovely anons: Alex and Holly. Thank you! _**


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